I Never: Edward & Bella
by SqueakyZorro
Summary: Bella and Edward start college with a lot to learn - and that doesn't even include their classes. All the twists and turns that lead two people to each other. AH; oneshot expanded. M for underage drinking, drug reference, and later citrus.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here we begin—the full-length story of my one-shot I Never. As you can see, I've expanded the title, too, to differentiate between the one-shot and this multi-chapter fic. I'm a little nervous about a multi-chapter; please be kind. :) A longish A/N at the end with some more info.**

**Thanks bunches to HollettLA and furious kitten at Project Team Beta for checking this out! **

**Rated M for future naughtiness (but it'll be a few chapters, folks).**

**Of course, I own nothing but dog-eared copies of all five books (yes, including Bree – which actually isn't all that dog-eared), three DVDs, and a desire for the Illustrated Guide (almost there!) and tickets to a midnight showing of BD part 1. Maybe Stephenie would share Edward? No? Well, it was worth a try. ;)**

**We start a few years before the one-shot...**

~_IN_~

**Chapter 1**

**Off to College**

_Bella_

My palms slipped on the steering wheel as I took the last turn toward La Push. The sign of nervousness was unexpected and unwelcome. _How could I be nervous about going to talk to Jake? I've known him his whole life!_ His whole life, but not quite all of mine. Was it the fifteen-month age difference that made me unable to view him in a romantic light?

It wasn't like I hadn't tried. Despite my misgivings, I had agreed to give him a chance. Our fathers were best friends, we were best friends, and I couldn't imagine my life without him. Who could resist those deep, dark eyes and that cocky smile—not to mention the awesome body that had started to develop in the last year?

I sighed. Me, apparently.

Sure, I had had fun on our "dates." It was impossible not to have fun with Jake. He had a snarky wit that could make me laugh even when I was mad at him, and he had talked me into trying things—like cliff-diving—that no one else could have. His tall, muscular frame, smooth, russet skin, and soft, dark hair should have been icing on the cake. But when he had brought me home and moved in for a goodnight kiss, something had been missing. The kisses had been warm, pleasant...and all too easy to end. If I had romantic feelings for him, shouldn't I want to hold on and never let go? Even if I wasn't actually ready to go much beyond kisses—shouldn't I _want_ to?

I had decided the answer had to be _yes._ Mild pleasure and curiosity just weren't enough for me. And that's all it had been with Jake. I was satisfied that I had made the right decision.

But this was going to be so hard...

I realized the truck had slowed to a crawl as I pulled onto Jake's street, my subconscious trying to put off the moment as long as possible. I came to a stop outside his house and wiped my palms on my jeans.

Okay, enough was enough. I was leaving for college in a month, and I was determined not to leave Jake with false hope. He still had another year of high school, and he should use the time to find someone else. "Screw your courage to the sticking place, Bella." My Shakespearean pep talk got me out of the truck and to the door.

Fifteen minutes later, I was astounded at how dense Jacob could be.

"Give it some time. I know you'll come around." His voice was confident, and his expression was encouraging, almost like a parent urging a child to try something new. I couldn't believe it.

"Jacob, I don't think you understand—"

"I understand what you _think_ you feel," he interrupted. "I just think you're wrong. Maybe you need to get away from Forks—go to college, spread your wings. Then you'll appreciate me when I get there." His trademark cocky smile flashed.

_What the hell? 'Spread my wings'? From my _younger_ best friend? That's just wrong._

"I know how I feel." I resisted the urge to raise my voice and kept it calm but firm. "I love you, you're my best friend, but I'm not in love with you. After all the trying I've done over the last few months, I'd know it by now if I was." There, I was leaving no loopholes. Then his last words hit me. "And what do you mean 'when you get there'? I'm going to William & Mary—Williamsburg, Virginia, all the way across the country. You've always said you need to stay close to your dad."

"I'm going where you go. Besides, Rachel started dating Paul a while ago, and it looks like it's getting serious fast. If she comes back to live here, then Dad's taken care of."

My mind went off on a tangent. "Your sister's dating Paul? Why do you seem so happy about it? I thought you couldn't stand him."

"Oh, he's not my favorite person, that's for sure. But his temper's a lot better now that he's seeing Rachel. It's almost like he's flipped the other way—now it's hard to get him to stop joking around, and he's so laid back you'd think he was smoking something."

I realized I was getting distracted, and I returned to my main point. "Jake, don't follow me," I said earnestly. "I'm not a little kid who needs to see something of the world before I know what I want. I know what I'm looking for, and I'm sorry—" I paused, searching in vain for a gentler way to put it, all the while knowing that _gentle_ just wouldn't penetrate Jake's thick skull— "but it's just not going to be with you." .

Hurt flickered in his eyes, and his smile—his beautiful, light-up-the-world smile—faded. My heart fell. I never wanted Jake to be hurt, and I hated to be the one causing it. _Please, please, let him be okay, and let our friendship survive this. I don't know if I could stand not having him in my life..._

He swallowed, then said in a husky voice, "You're doing what you feel is right. I get that. Well, I have to do the same thing." He paused, as if to let me respond, but I could think of nothing to say. He tried for a lighter tone as he continued, "Who knows? Maybe when it's time for me to go to college next year, I won't feel the same." His attempt at a smile was a shadow of its usual brilliance, and it faded quickly as his voice became serious again. "But if I feel like I do now, I'll be following you, even if it's across the country. I just know I need to be with you."

A tear escaped my control and slid down my cheek. "I'm so sorry." There really wasn't anything else I could say that wouldn't make it worse, and I didn't try.

I opened my arms to him and was surrounded by his warmth as he hugged me back.

I left quickly and headed for home. Tears continued to fall as I wrestled with my old truck's steering wheel on the sharp turn for my street. To my dismay, I found myself second-guessing my decision..._I love him, I even need him in a way...How can I be so sure it's just friendship?_

I had no logical answer. Just a bone-deep certainty that somewhere, someone else was meant for me. And if I never found him, I'd rather muddle through on my own than settle for less.

_Edward_

I sorted through my CDs, deciding which I should leave at home in Chicago and which I should take with me to college. I'd have my iPod, of course, but I liked having the CDs, too. The take-with-me stack was easily five times bigger than the leave-at-home stack. "Fuck it," I muttered and put both stacks in the box. It's not like I'd be squashed in a dorm room with a roommate. With the house that Carlisle and Esme had purchased, my cousin Emmett and I would have our own bedrooms and plenty of space for my music and books. It would even have a piano, although not the baby grand that occupied a prime spot in my aunt and uncle's Chicago home. And between Emmett's Jeep and my Volvo, we'd have enough room for a few boxes.

I taped the box closed. There, that was the last of it. The next morning, we'd start the 800-mile trip to William & Mary.

I wandered downstairs and sat at the piano, playing around with bits and pieces of songs I knew and a few of my own compositions. I felt someone sit next to me on the bench and was unsurprised when I looked over to see my aunt Esme.

"Your parents would be so proud of you," she said softly. I realized that, without conscious thought, I had started to play John Lennon's _Beautiful Boy_, a song my mother had sung to me and which came to me when I thought of her.

"I hope so." I let my fingers move from Lennon to Debussy as I started _Clair de Lune_, one of Esme's favorites. She smiled and listened as I played.

"Hey, dude, enough of the emo crap. How about something with a beat?" Our quiet time was interrupted when Emmett entered the room. "Aren't you excited? College! No more high school! New babes to meet, new worlds to conquer!"

Because I loved him even when he annoyed me, I improvised a little Jerry Lee Lewis before ending with a flourish. He laughed.

"That's more like it! Come on, Dad's got the grill warmed up, and Alice is done with the Bon Voyage decorations. She wants us all out there, pronto."

"We'll be right out. Tell him I'll have a burger," Esme said as she made a shooing motion toward Emmett.

"Me, too," I echoed. After Emmett left the room, I looked up at my aunt, who had risen from the piano bench. "Did you need something?"

She gazed at me for a moment, then brushed her hand over my unruly hair. "Just to say that I really meant that. You've become a fine young man, and I know you're going to do amazing things."

I felt a blush heat my face, and I looked down at the piano keys. "I don't know about that," I mumbled. "But Emmett's right—it's got to be better than high school."

She laughed. "Oh, honey, it is. You'll do fine." She nudged my shoulder. "Come on; let's go see what Carlisle's managed to do with the grill. Enough emo crap."

Hearing Emmett's words out of Esme's mouth jarred a laugh from me, and I stood and followed her out to the deck.

Later that night, lying in the dark and waiting for sleep, I thought about the last four years. They hadn't been all bad. I wasn't exactly popular, but I had friends who shared my interests in music and science. I hadn't had a steady girlfriend, but I had managed to find enough courage to ask a friend from band to the prom. She'd said yes, and we'd had fun, as friends. My grades and test scores were good enough to get me into a competitive school with a scholarship.

But I was constantly compared with jovial, athletic Emmett or vivacious, trendy Alice. I could run fast, sure, but that was the extent of my athletic ability. And just the thought of keeping up with Alice's social calendar made me nauseous. They were both so good-looking, too, with Carlisle's bright blue eyes and the dark hair that was a throwback to Esme's father. Alice was short, true, but for a girl that was just petite. Sometimes I felt out of place in this family: green eyes, red hair, freckles, short for my age, skinny...I'd kept hoping that I'd have a growth spurt so I didn't still look like a freshman, but it just hadn't happened. Esme's reminder that my father had been a "late bloomer" didn't really make me feel better.

I sighed, realizing I needed to get some sleep before tomorrow's drive. We were going to try and make it in one day, and with Emmett's competitive streak and my stubbornness, we just might. Despite my previously somber thoughts, a smile tugged at my lips. Behind Emmett's pranks and jokes lay hints of genius. New worlds to conquer, indeed. William & Mary wasn't a huge school, but it was big enough that I wouldn't automatically be linked with Emmett, and Alice still had a year of high school to finish. I would rise or fall on my own merits. As for the new babes...my smile turned to a grin. Well, I wouldn't say no to that, either.

~_IN_~

**A/N: So, what do you think? Edward's a little different from the one-shot here. I had so much more in mind as I wrote the O/S, and I'm glad to tell the rest of it. We have a few chapters before we get to where the O/S started. Also, a few other couples want some time, although this will remain primarily an Edward and Bella fic. (Other couples will likely get their own stories later, if there's any interest—or if the plot bunnies keep hopping.) Each chapter will have two POVs, one from Bella and one from Edward (although one of the other couples may sneak in a chapter or two), but I'll try to keep the overlap to a minimum.**

**I can't promise a specific update schedule because my real life is just too hectic and unpredictable, but I can promise I won't drop this. I have an outline and I'm working on the next chapter, so I'll shoot for two weeks. Just don't hold me to that—I have enough deadlines at work! I'm on twitter, (at) SqueakyZorro, so if it looks like that time frame won't work, I'll tweet.**

**Let me know what you liked—and what you didn't, that's how I grow as a writer. Yeah, that little button below—just click it and type a few words. :) Thanks for reading! And thanks even more for reviewing! (Let me know if teasers for reviews sounds like a good trade to you—maybe there will be a reward...)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, put me on alert, or just read! I'm so glad you seem to like the starting point. :)**

**I'm sorry this took so long. I really thought two weeks would be doable, and instead it's been more like three months. :( I'll try to do better. One thing that will help: I've given up on trying to include both points of view each chapter, at least until they meet. You'd still be waiting for an update if I hung around until Edward cooperated, lol.**

**Huge thanks to EmilyBowden for prereading – it's great to be able to bounce things off someone else. And thanks bunches to shelikesthesound and sweetishbubble at Project Team Beta for checking this out. **

**Rated M for some language, a few intoxicants, and a lotta future naughtiness (but it'll be a few chapters, folks).**

**Of course, I own nothing but dog-eared copies of five books (yes, including Bree – which actually isn't all that dog-eared), three DVDs, and a brand new but fast becoming dog-eared copy of the Illustrated Guide. And fatigue from going to Deathly Hallows part 2 last night—but so worth it! All I need are tickets to a midnight showing of BD part 1 and (hint, hint) an introduction to Edward...Hmm...No response...I guess Stephenie is not amused.**

**Let's see what Bella's up to freshman year...**

~_IN_~

**Chapter 2**

**My New Roommate**

_Bella_

I opened the door to the room that would be my home for the next nine months. It was bigger than my bedroom back in Forks, but it couldn't be called large, especially with two residents. It was currently occupied by two sets of generic furniture: beds, dressers, desks, and chairs. I could see no sign of Kate, the roommate I'd been assigned.

_Since I'm first, I guess I get first pick of the beds._

After testing each of them, I decided there wasn't any detectable difference in quality, so I chose the one further away from the door. If Kate turned out to be more of a partier than me—which was likely, since I wasn't a partier at all—at least she wouldn't stumble over me trying to get to her own bed. I started to unpack my stuff.

I had my clothes put away in the dresser and was starting to make up the bed I'd chosen when the door opened again. I turned and got my first look at my new roommate. I became immediately aware of my rumpled clothes, tangled hair, and bland coloring.

Kate Fiala was drop-dead gorgeous. Her wavy blond hair hung about half-way down her back, and her features were strong and well-defined yet still delicate. Her flawless skin had a light tan, which set off her light blue eyes so that they looked almost lavender. The jeans and scoop-neck t-shirt were casual, but her slim, curvy body wore them so well they could have been straight off the runway.

I sighed. _Well, it's a good thing I don't like being the center of attention. No one will see me with her around anyway._

"Hey, you must be Bella. I'm Kate." She slung a huge duffel bag on the other bed.

I smiled and replied, "Yeah, I'm Bella. Nice to meet you. I hope you don't mind; I just picked a bed so I could start settling in."

"Oh, no worries. This one's good. You either work fast or you didn't have a lot to unpack." She half-smiled as she looked at me.

"A little of both, I guess." I laughed, a little nervously. One downside of coming across the country for college was not knowing anyone else to room with. I hated meeting new people, and she seemed nice but I had to admit that her looks were intimidating.

Kate looked at me fully, and her smile warmed. "You're a little shy, huh? It's okay; I don't bite."

"Oh, God, is it that obvious?" I groaned, embarrassed but also reassured on some level. I was also impressed with her perception in identifying the source of my nerves and her forthrightness in addressing it directly. We both laughed and started trading random facts as I finished my own unpacking before helping with hers. Maybe this would work out after all.

_~IN~_

Two weeks later, I had decided our living arrangement would work out a little better if she found a place other than my side of the room for her dirty laundry. And was a little quieter when she came in hammered after rush parties. But on the whole, we got along a lot better than our different personalities would have indicated.

No doubt at all, we were different. I was shy, studious, and completely uninterested in gossip or trends. I rarely wore skirts or makeup, and while I loved my long, wavy, brown hair, all I ever did with it was leave it loose or pull it back in a ponytail. I loved to read, hated crowded parties, and had never been drunk or had sex.

Kate was just as smart as I was, but she was outgoing and popular; within a few weeks, she seemed to know half our class. She took up three-fourths of our closet and knew how to throw a few pieces together in a way that looked straight out of Vogue. Her long blonde hair was mostly left to hang down her back, but sometimes she formed complex braids or up-dos with little apparent effort. Parties were her element, and by half-way through rush—an activity that gave me shudders just to think of doing it myself—she had her choice of three sororities, eventually choosing Delta Epsilon Nu. As for sex, well...she wasn't like me there, either. She wasn't a slut, but she wasn't waiting for true love to come calling.

Somehow, though, we worked.

Unlike the party crowd at my high school, she didn't think less of me for not being just like her, and that meant my instinctive defenses—silence and sarcasm—were not triggered. She was sympathetic to my shyness, and I came to realize that she had insecurities, too. What started as cautious mutual respect warmed quickly and became friendship. We complemented each other.

Of course, that didn't stop me from encouraging her to be a little neater and more organized in her study habits, and it didn't stop her from trying to get me out of my shell and over to one of the parties. I steadfastly resisted for the whole first half of the semester, but I finally cracked right after mid-terms. I blamed it on the calculus test—that mofo was _rough_.

A muffled Slovak curse came from the closet. "Don't you have anything to wear?" Kate demanded.

I looked down at my jeans and flannel shirt. "Can't I just wear what I have on? It's just a frat party, not a debutante ball." _Was that whining? No, of course not._

Kate's head emerged and she gave me a stern look. "It's still a party. You will not go looking like you could just as well be scrubbing your bathroom." A whisper of an accent could be heard in her words. One thing I had learned about Kate was that she was the first person in her family to be born in the U.S., and she had grown up speaking Slovak at home and English at school and with her friends. Her head ducked back in the closet as she muttered, "You'll have to borrow something of mine. Try not to spill beer on it."

I chuckled. She talked a good game, but I knew she was a softy at heart. She just wanted me to look good, and her sense of style, unlike mine, was not open to question. A few seconds later, she emerged, triumphant and holding a scrap of dark blue fabric. She looked at me critically, had me turn around for her while I rolled my eyes, and announced, "You can keep the jeans—your ass looks good in them. But no way are you wearing flannel. Here."

I gingerly accepted the garment and was instantly seduced by how it felt in my hand—it didn't just lie there, it _caressed _me. I held it up to reveal a silk blouse with cap sleeves and a rounded collar. I was relieved she'd given me something fairly modest and eager to feel the silk against more of my skin, so I didn't argue. Until I realized that the buttons stopped at least three inches shy of my comfort level.

"Kate! No way am I going out in public with my boobs hanging out!" I glared at her. "At least let me put a tank or something on under it."

Kate sighed in exasperation. "Nothing's hanging out, you prude. If you wore normal clothes once in a while instead of covering up more than a nun, you'd realize this isn't even daring."

She took me by the shoulders and walked me over to the mirror.

"See? Just a teensy little shadow of cleavage. Not too revealing at all—just a little hint. It's perfect for you."

I looked in the mirror and saw that she was right. When I looked down at myself, I saw more than someone looking at me would; from the front, it was fine. And, oh, the color did amazing things for my skin—my pale face and neck didn't look washed out, like they usually did; I _glowed._

I smiled brightly. "All right, you've convinced me. Let's go."

Kate led the way to the Phi Omega Rho house, where the party was. As we walked, she filled me in on who I could expect to see there. "A bunch of sisters will be there. I want you to meet Tanya and Irina – they're great. Watch out for Lauren, though. She's a backstabber and jealous of any attention anyone else gets. I'm still a little vague on the Phi O guys; they kinda blend together for me."

I was getting more nervous the closer we got, but before I knew it, Kate and I were holding plastic cups of beer chatting with two guys who said their names were Mike and Eric. I tasted the beer and found I didn't like the taste any more than I'd liked the sip of my dad's Vitamin R I'd snitched once, but I took a sip every now and then, mostly when I couldn't think of anything to say. That was pretty often. Once I caught Mike's eyes on the "shadow" of cleavage revealed by the blouse and I felt a blush heat my cheeks. I quickly looked down, then swallowed some beer to moisten my suddenly dry throat.

"Can I get you a refill?" Mike's hand appeared at the edge of my vision, reaching for my cup. I was surprised to realize I'd finished it.

"Um, sure. Thanks." A new guy had joined our group, Peter, I thought. He and Kate seemed to be hitting it off. Their stances had shifted slightly from the group as a whole to focused solely on each other, and looking at them objectively, I could see little cues in their mannerisms. Something told me Kate wouldn't be leaving with me.

My attention was drawn back to Mike when he handed me another beer. I took a sip and must have made a face because he chuckled.

"Not that good?"

I smiled ruefully and admitted, "Not really, no. Sorry, don't mean to diss the hospitality."

Mike and Eric both laughed at that. "Are you kidding? These are the cheapest kegs we could find—I'd be more surprised if they _did_ taste good," Eric said.

For some reason, probably the fact that I wasn't that big and was now started on my second beer in less than an hour, I found that hilarious. Mike looked almost relieved that I seemed to be loosening up.

"You said you're from Washington state? That's unusual here. How are you liking Virginia?" Mike's voice was casual but he angled his body a little closer to me, in a way that partially blocked Eric.

"I like it. I like getting more sun, though I'm glad the heat's died down."

They both laughed again. "Wow, more sun. That's not something you hear about Williamsburg," Eric commented.

I took another, larger sip of my beer. This cup tasted a little better than the first. "Where are you guys from? Virginia?"

They both nodded. "We're both from NoVa." At my puzzled look, Mike explained further, "Northern Virginia, outside of D.C. There's a ton of us from up there. I'm from Arlington, and Eric's from McLean."

"Oh, did you know each other?"

"Nah, we just met during rush," Eric answered.

The conversation seemed to flow a lot more smoothly after that. The three of us ended up flaked out on a worn sofa while music videos played on a flatscreen. At some point, I realized that I couldn't remember how many beers I'd had.

Kate came over with Peter. "I'm going to go with Peter for a while. Will you be okay getting back to the dorm without me?" _It says a lot for her that she even thought to ask,_ I mused dimly, _instead of just leaving me for her...assignation? Hookup?_ I had no idea what to call it.

Mike and Eric both jumped in. "Hey, I can walk you back, no sweat," Mike said.

"Don't you have an early football practice tomorrow?" Eric helpfully reminded him. "I'll take care of Bella."

"It's not that early. I wouldn't feel right if I didn't see she got back okay," Mike replied, glaring at Eric.

Kate chuckled. "Well, looks like you're taken care of?"

I nodded. "We'll work it out."

They both ended up walking me home, and in a burst of gratitude, I slung an arm around each of them. "You guys are sweet, taking the time to walk me home instead of cruising for chicks at your party."

Mike coughed, and I worried. "You're not getting a cold, are you? You probably shouldn't be out in the night air, especially if you've got practice in the morning."

He smiled at me, a streetlight highlighting his blond hair and blue eyes. "I'm fine, Bella. And what makes you think I'm not cruising for a chick right now?"

I blushed and walked faster, hoping the darkness away from the streetlight would keep them from seeing it. "Well, duh, it's me. Why would you hit on me? Oh good, we're here!" I added before either of them could answer my rhetorical question. I removed my arms and thanked them both again before using my card key to enter the dorm.

I was a little more clumsy than usual as I made my way down the hall, bouncing against the wall at one point. I wondered vaguely if the carpet needed to be tacked down more securely. Once I got to my room, I all but crashed into my bed. The effort to get up and follow my usual night routine suddenly seemed overwhelming. I half-opened my eyes and looked at the bathroom door, a million miles away. "The hell with it," I muttered and kicked off my shoes. I was asleep before I even got under the covers.

_~IN~_

I awoke to a crew of tiny miners digging in my brain with their little pickaxes. I groaned and heard a soft chuckle. Turning my head slowly to try to keep the miners from becoming more aggressive, I opened one eye to see Kate reclining on her bed with a book on her lap, looking at me with both sympathy and humor. She nodded toward my nightstand, and following her gaze, I saw a couple of pills and a glass of water. "I got you some ibuprofen. Take it and lie down for a while longer. You, my friend, are having your first hangover."

I sat up enough to take the pills and then gently lay my head back down. "Ugh. Is that what this is? Why didn't I get a clue from how bad the beer tasted?"

Kate laughed and the sound seemed to pierce my skull, drawing another groan from me. She stopped right away. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. Everyone does it at least once."

I opened both eyes and surveyed her critically. Not only did she appear to have none of the ill effects I was suffering from, she looked downright radiant. I scowled and said sourly, "You're looking fabulous this morning. Didn't you drink too much?"

Kate tried to keep the noise down, but a few giggles escaped. My scowl deepened. "I come from a long line of hardcore vodka drinkers, Bella. It takes more than a few beers to put me under. Besides, I only had one—Peter and I didn't drink anything." Her sultry smile hinted at what they had done. Apparently, a little nookie did wonders for her.

I was suddenly curious—or the painkillers were kicking in—and I pushed myself to a sitting position and grabbed the water glass. "You _do _look fabulous, and you're in one hell of a good mood. Is sex really that great?"

Kate's voice matched her smile. "It sure can be." She tilted her head. "Why? Are you thinking about letting Mike or Eric stamp your v-card? They both looked like they'd be happy to oblige."

"_What?_ No!" I was so glad I hadn't taken a sip of water at that moment.

"Why not?"

I blurted, "Why not? Because it's ridiculous. I just met them, and anyway, neither of them is interested in me that way."

Kate shook her head. "Are you blind? My God, they practically had a fight over who would walk you home! Mike never left your side the whole night except to get you refills, and Eric never left, period."

Confused, I hesitantly said, "They were just being nice, you know, friendly."

Kate exhaled, clearly exasperated. "Bella, how can you be so naïve? A college guy is not 'friendly' to a pretty college girl unless they're related or he's trying to get in her pants."

I giggled. "Well, there you go. You just proved my point."

Now she looked confused. "Huh? How?"

"Well, you said a 'pretty' college girl. I'm not pretty, so they were just being nice." I flopped back on the bed, my spurt of energy used up.

Kate pressed her lips together. "You really are blind. Didn't you date at all in high school?"

"Just Jake. I told you about him. That didn't go so well."

"And no one else ever asked you out?"

"Um, maybe once or twice, but nobody I was really interested in. People kind of assumed Jake and I were an item, even before and after those few months we were actually dating. And well, you know…"

"What do I know?"

I hated that she was asking me to say it, and I glared at her as I replied, "Just look at me! I'm plain, skinny, and boring. Guys don't go for girls like me."

To my surprise, instead of admitting that I had a point, Kate looked…_angry._ "Where did you get this horrible self-image? You're none of those things. I swear, by the time this year is over, you're going to see clearly."

I was puzzled and too worn out to think any more. "What are you talking about? See what?" My words were starting to slur as sleep beckoned.

Kate's face softened as she realized I was fading fast. "Never mind for now. Go ahead and rest. But don't think I won't bring this up again," she warned.

I couldn't figure out why she'd want to continue talking about this topic, but I was too exhausted to argue any more. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

_~IN~_

Within a few weeks, I was forced to admit that Kate was right—Mike and Eric weren't just being "friendly."

Mike invited me to come watch his games and meet up with him afterward, even though, as a freshman, he rarely played. I wasn't a big sports fan, but I liked going to live games; the atmosphere when I was right there just pulled me in, even if I wasn't sure exactly what was going on. Eric seemed to be around so regularly when I went Swemming—studying at Swem library—that I suspected hidden stalker tendencies. Neither of them actually asked me on a date, though, until almost Thanksgiving.

I'd agreed to go with Mike to the last home game before the holiday, knowing that once we were back, I'd be focusing on finals. As we walked over to the Phi O house for the post-game bash, he cleared his throat. "So, I was thinking, maybe we could get some dinner tomorrow night?"

Of course, being me, I misunderstood. "Sure, you want to meet at the Caf around 6?" I said, naming the school's main cafeteria.

He cleared his throat again. _Is he getting sick? He seems to cough a lot._

"Um, no. I meant, we could go out somewhere—not the Caf." At my blank look, he elaborated, "Just the two of us. A date."

The light dawned, and I felt a blush heat my face at how slow I'd been. Thoughts streaked through my mind as I tried to come up with my answer. My first thought was how to let him down easily. But before I said anything to that effect, I caught myself. Why should I say no? He was a nice guy, I liked him, and I even found him sort of attractive. No sparks flew, like my favorite books described—but how did I know that kind of spark was even real? Why did a first date have to equal a commitment in my head? It was just dinner, for crying out loud. I didn't even have to kiss him unless I wanted to.

"That—that'd be nice. Thanks." I glanced at him a little shyly, but when I saw the smile on his face as he realized I'd accepted, I looked at him fully and smiled back. _This could be fun—give it a chance._

_~IN~_

On the last day of the semester, Kate and I both completed our finals, and we planned to celebrate. She critiqued my outfit, as usual, but I no longer found it annoying—she had a lot more fashion savvy than I did, and she knew how to dress me up without making me uncomfortable.

We walked across campus to the delis to start our evening. Until I got to William & Mary, I'd never thought that a cluster of delis would be a central social gathering spot, but it worked here. We had a quick..._discussion_...about which one to go to. She liked Paul's and I preferred the College Delly. I won. We settled into a booth with our sandwiches and a pitcher of beer, courtesy of Kate's fake ID.

Kate had been following my few dates with Mike with avid curiosity, and I wasn't surprised when the topic came up. "How are things with Mike?"

I groaned and countered, "How are things with Peter?" They didn't seem to be serious, but she seemed to like hooking up with him every so often. I gathered he was pretty good in the sack.

Kate snorted. "Don't give me that. You'd blush ten shades of red and probably run out of this place if I actually answered that question. Come on, talk. I've seen you scribbling away in that journal of yours. If you can write that much, you can spill a little now."

Sure enough, her just saying that I'd blush caused the heat to rise in my cheeks, which her mention of my journal only intensified. Cursing my pale skin, I muttered, "It's not a diary-type journal; I just write what I feel like writing about. It's almost never about my own life." She looked at me patiently, letting me know that she wouldn't be sidetracked. "All right, all right. It's..okay. He's a nice guy. We have fun together."

"Fun? How much fun?"

I glared. "Not _that_ much. We hang out, we...kiss." I could have continued, _He tried to cop a feel but took it well when I pushed his hand away. He didn't dump me for it and he hasn't pushed again...yet._ That had been just before finals, our last date before I put him off by saying I needed to buckle down to studying. I felt bad for thinking that way, as if he was an obligation that I tried to get out of. He _was _a really nice guy, I liked kissing him, and I liked spending time with him. But I didn't really have any strong urge to do more than kiss, and it was starting to feel horribly like the situation with Jacob—though at least I didn't have a lifelong friendship at risk. I honestly wasn't sure what I wanted anymore. I was hoping to use the month-long winter break to try and figure that out.

Kate looked at me searchingly for a moment. I got the feeling she inferred quite a bit from the eight words I'd spoken aloud. Demonstrating her formidable perception, she asked, "Is that what you want? To hang out and kiss?"

I groaned. "I don't know; what else should I want? We've only had a few dates over less than a month. Isn't a little early to think it should be more?"

I should have known she'd pick up on what I'd inadvertently revealed. "Not necessarily. But if you're asking that question, you're thinking along those lines. Do you feel like it should be more?"

Feeling at a loss, I sighed and looked down at the table. As I tried to formulate an answer, we were joined by two of Kate's sorority sisters, sophomores Tanya and Irina, whom I'd gotten to know and like. They all looked uncannily similar—tall and gorgeous, with blond hair ranging from Kate's white-blond to Tanya's strawberry to Irina's gold. I felt like the token brunette at the table, and despite Kate's makeover efforts, a little out of place with them. Not that they were nasty to me—at all—I just knew I was out of their league.

"What's up?" Tanya asked as they sat down with their sandwiches and poured a couple of beers.

Kate responded before I could try and redirect the conversation. "Bella's trying to decide what she wants from Mike."

I looked up, surprised. _Is that what I'm trying to figure out? I would never have put it like that, but I guess that's what it is._ It seemed so strange to me to focus on what I wanted from a guy—I was usually worried about whether I was enough for him, not vice versa. With an effort, I tried to articulate why I was so hesitant.

"Well, he's kind of hard to talk to, and he gets bored with things I like. He's not stupid, but he's not...deep, I guess you could say. Like, he asked me to pick the movie for our second date, and I really wanted to see The King's Speech, so that's what I picked. I actually had to nudge him once during the movie because, not only did he nod off, he snored loud enough that other people could hear him."

The other girls laughed loud and long. After a few minutes, I continued, "I mean, I know absolutely nothing about football, but I don't fall asleep during his games. And when we had dinner for our first date, we talked about the one class we have together, the literature class? And I mentioned one of the poems we'd just covered and you'd have thought I was speaking another language." As the others giggled, I sighed. Trying to be fair, I added "It's not all bad—not at all. He can be really sweet, he's not arrogant like a lot of jocks, and he's...caring...protective of me, without making me feel smothered or incompetent. Maybe I'm just expecting too much, too soon. I really like kissing him...I'm just not sure..."

Suddenly curious, and realizing I had three perfect resources to tap for help with my dilemma, I uttered the first question that came to mind. "How do you know when you want to go to bed with a guy?"

Tanya answered first. I don't think she knew how to spell nervous, it was so foreign to her. "Depends on what I'm looking for. If I'm just looking to get off, blow off steam, then I look for someone who seems like he knows what he's doing in bed but who is also responsible enough not to have picked up an STD. Then we have to have some chemistry—does the flirting flow? Do I notice his body? Is he checking out mine and responding? Do the first touches—kisses, light caresses—go well? If you mean someone to have a relationship, then more long-term things come into play. Do we have interests in common? Do we treat each other with respect? Do we want similar things in life? Of course, that's mostly hypothetical. I'm not looking for that now."

Gazing at her seriously, I followed up. "For your first time, how did you know you wanted him?"

Tanya laughed. "Oh, honey, I didn't pick _him_ as my first; it was just time. I mean, he was a nice guy—we dated through most of high school—but we were mostly curious and hormonal."

"Hmm." I felt vaguely dissatisfied. I didn't think I had any trouble with my hormones, but the combination of them and my curiosity had never even come close to making me want to sleep with anyone in high school. I turned to Irina. "How about you? Do you mind my asking? I know this is really personal."

She shook her golden hair back as she tilted her head and looked at me. "Are you asking about now, or about my first?"

"Both, I guess," I replied, blushing a little.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. She was generally a much more private person than Tanya; I was surprised she hadn't taken me at my word and said she'd prefer not to talk. "My first was my high school sweetheart. We went steady through high school, went to all the school dances, hung out with each other's families. We did the deed after junior prom—the whole cliché—and stayed together for senior year. When I started here last year and he was across the state, we swore we loved each other and wouldn't let the distance matter. And maybe just distance wouldn't have, but we started growing apart. It just got too hard trying to keep something going with someone hundreds of miles away. We both felt like we were missing out on things that were happening right where we were, waiting for a phone call, and then we'd fight if one of us missed the phone call. He got really into caving, and I'm claustrophobic, which he knows, but he kept saying we should do it the next time we were together. I started getting into the live music scene, you know, eclectic, indie stuff—but he's strictly top 40 and hated when I played the CD's I'd picked up. Over winter break, we realized we just didn't have that much in common any more, and we broke up."

She took a sip of her beer before continuing. "It still hurt a lot. Even though it was fuzzy, I'd pictured a future with him. When I got back for spring semester, I went a little crazy. I fucked just about any guy who asked, telling myself I was making up for lost time. But I was just trying to distract myself. Now...I guess you could say I'd like a friends-with-benefits relationship. I don't want to get caught in the trap of planning a future with someone when I'm in such a transitory place in my life. I have too much changing to do. I'm not looking for 'true love,' whatever that is, until I've established myself." She must have seen my shock at how open she was being, because she added, "I don't talk about this a lot, but I think you're wise to ask questions, get some different perspectives."

Kate added her two cents. "The most important thing is not to copy anyone else. None of us is you, so we can only share our experiences and opinions. What's right for any one of us isn't necessarily what would make you happy. What you were saying before—feeling a need for more—well, if that's how you feel, be true to that. Don't feel you have some deadline to meet for your first time; that's just silly. You'll know when you're ready and who with."

The conversation turned to plans for break. I was thoughtful as we finished our sandwiches and the pitcher that Kate and I had started. Then, in lieu of ordering another pitcher, we decided to splurge and move over to the Green Leafe, which had a little more variety in the drinks. We got a pitcher of margaritas, which went down a lot more smoothly than the beer had.

I soon realized it was a lot sneakier, too. By my second glass, I felt like I was floating, and by my third, the cafe was looking a little blurry. My friends and I also seemed to be remarkably witty, and the laughter flowed as easily as the tequila. I remembered dimly that I'd sworn not to get drunk again after my first hangover, but surely that had been caused by the yucky beer I'd been drinking that night. These yummy margaritas wouldn't have the same effect.

A few hours later, kneeling in front of the toilet in the dorm bathroom, I discovered I was right: it wasn't the same effect at all—it was much worse. As my stomach emptied itself, I felt a vague gratitude that my hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

When I was done, I flushed and hauled myself to the sink. After splashing some cold water on my face, I brushed my teeth with as much toothpaste as would fit on the brush. The image in the mirror struck me as downright pitiful: makeup smudged, skin with a green tinge, and expression about as miserable as I could remember feeling since I'd arrived in Williamsburg. Having my mouth taste better gave me enough energy to wash the makeup off, so I wouldn't wake up looking like a raccoon. I started to leave the bathroom, but remembering my last encounter with too much alcohol, I turned back long enough to gulp some ibuprofen and a glass of water.

I stumbled back out to the bedroom to see Kate stretched out on her bed, snoring lightly. I called softly, not wanting to wake her unless she'd been waiting for the bathroom, "Kate? The bathroom's all yours if you want it." I paused, no answer. "Kate!" Still nothing. _Let her sleep. Let me sleep, too. Just a few steps._

I made it to my bed, stripped off my clothes, left them where they lay, and pulled a t-shirt on over my panties. I curled up in bed and pulled the covers up. Considering my state not twenty minutes earlier, I felt amazingly cozy. Just before I drifted off, I had enough presence of mind for two coherent thoughts. First, I was grateful I didn't leave for Forks until the day after tomorrow, so I had some recovery time. And second, I had to make some time for reflection over break about where I wanted to take things with Mike.

~_IN_~

**A/N: So, we start to see a little more of what makes Bella tick. What do you think? Wanna see how Edward's first semester is going? Next chapter is in the works. **

**I still won't promise a specific update schedule because my real life is just too hectic and unpredictable, but I'm going to give a three-week schedule a try. Yes, I know, that's a LOT quicker than the four months after the contest it took to get the first chapter up or the almost three months for chapter 2, but I've discovered WCs—they're great and keep me focused! I'm on twitter, (at) SqueakyZorro, so if it looks it'll be longer, I'll tweet.**

**Let me know what you liked—and what you didn't; that's how I grow as a writer. Yeah, that little button below—just click it and type a few words. :) Thanks for reading! And thanks even more for reviewing! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm trying to get away from long author's notes, especially before the chapter. So here we go: Edward's freshman year...**

**Oh! Almost forgot—still need the disclaimer: Stephenie owns all. No infringement is intended.**

Chapter 3

Evolution

_Edward_

I walked down the hallway, looking for the office number on the sheet I'd been given. _Why do I have to talk to an advisor now? We don't need a major until the end of next year—everyone knows the first two years are just general courses. _

This was such a waste of time. I knew what I was doing. It was either medicine or law, so I'd major in biology, do plenty of coursework in political science—no, they called it government at William & Mary—and enough music for a minor, just to round it all out. I didn't need a professor who knew nothing about me telling me what classes to choose.

Since I'd put biology as a tentative major, my assigned advisor was in the biology department. Coming to the end of the hallway, I found the office I needed and knocked. While I waited for a response, I checked my sheet again: _Dr. Banner._

"Come on in," a moderately deep voice said, and I entered the office to see a heavyset, slightly balding man in his fifties. Light blue eyes behind wire-rim glasses evaluated me.

_Hmm, he doesn't seem any more interested in this meeting than I am. Just because it's pointless doesn't mean I want to piss anyone off—try manners._

I walked to the desk and extended my hand. "Edward Cullen, sir. Thanks for taking the time to meet with me."

He seemed taken aback. I guessed that not many students greeted him that way. Apparently appreciating the respect, though, he stood and shook my hand before gesturing to the seat opposite his.

"Nice to meet you, Edward. Dr. John Banner."

As I sat, he pulled a file closer, opened it, and glanced at the first page. "This is quite an ambitious course load you've picked. Don't you think it might be wise to take it easy the first semester, give yourself time to find your feet and settle in a bit?"

Internally, I sighed and rolled my eyes, but outwardly I kept what I hoped was a pleasant expression. "I understand it's a little heavier than a typical freshman load, but it's within the normal credit hour limit. I haven't ruled out a double major, so I want to get the basic coursework covered as soon as possible so I can still graduate in four years."

He sat back in his chair. "Well, you're here because you chose biology as a tentative major. What else are you thinking about?"

"I'm interested in law and medicine. At this point, I haven't decided which I want to do. I also love music, and I want to indulge that as long as I can. Law doesn't require a specific major, so either biology or music would still qualify me for law school, but I don't want to neglect government and history—or English, for that matter. Lawyers do a lot of writing."

Banner seemed unwillingly impressed. "You have given this quite a lot of thought, then, I see." I just nodded.

Still scanning my proposed course schedule, he pursed his lips as his eyes stopped at a particular point. "I see that you plan to sign up for the 200 level biology class. You do realize that's a sophomore level class?"

_Don't patronize me. I aced AP biology and got my freshman biology credit before I even set foot on this campus. I know what I'm ready for._

Despite my inner thoughts, I gave what I hoped was a confident but respectful smile. "Yes, sir, I'm aware of that. I discussed this with my AP biology teacher, as well as one of my dad's colleagues who teaches as an adjunct at Northwestern, and they seemed to think that I can handle it. I thought I'd at least give it a chance. My understanding is that I have two weeks to switch classes if it turns out to be too much?"

He cleared his throat. He appeared slightly offended that I'd spoken with someone from another school, but any offense quickly gave way to reluctant admiration of the very well-known, well-respected school in question. "Yes, that's true. That is what the add-drop period is for."

He flipped to another sheet in the file and reviewed it. "You maintained a heavy load in high school, too, and your grades stayed at the top of your class." After focusing on his the file for a moment, he seemed to come to a decision. Glancing up at me with almost a twinkle in his eye, he said, "Really, the only question is whether you want to take it easy the first semester so you have time for the more social aspects of college."

I laughed, thinking it was funny that he was encouraging me to party. "That's the last thing I want, thanks anyway. I mean, I'm not a hermit, but I've got a cousin who'll make sure I get out of my study mode once in a while."

"Oh? Does he go to William & Mary as well?"

"Yes. I don't expect you'll see him in biology, though. He got a little squeamish during dissections in high school." I tried not to make it obvious that I was avoiding giving him Emmett's name. One of my main goals at college was NOT to be identified with my cousin. I wanted to make my own name here.

Luckily, he wasn't interested enough to push. He adopted an almost avuncular manner as he said, "Just remember, you have the add-drop period, so take a good look at your time during the second week. I can tell you, if you feel any pressure at all by then, it's just going to get worse when finals come around. A heavy course load only looks good to graduate schools if you do it successfully. Don't keep it heavy and then find your overall GPA suffers."

_Why do I get the feeling he hopes I'll drop a couple of classes?_

"Thank you, sir, I'll keep that in mind. And I do understand—the last thing I want is to start college off on the wrong foot."

Banner stood and extended his hand again. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Edward. Best of luck to you here at William & Mary. I'll probably see you in a class or two if you end up sticking with biology. If you ever want some advice or just to chat, feel free to stop by."

I echoed his motions and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you, I will."

I left the building feeling that I'd used the unwanted meeting as an opportunity to lay some groundwork for my future here. Banner was clearly threatened by anyone he thought might be smarter than him, but by the end of the meeting, he seemed reassured that I had acknowledged his position of authority. I was confident that I'd come across as intelligent, well-prepared, and not afraid of hard work. That he might also have thought me a bit arrogant, too, didn't bother me. It wasn't arrogance if it was based in fact.

A few days later, I arrived for the first 200-level biology class. The students were mostly sophomores, just me and two other freshman. The older students congregated in groups, talking with each other; they seemed to know each other, I guess from previous classes together. They looked skeptically at each of us, the newbies, as we entered. Some inborn self-preservation instinct had us forming our own group at the the far right of the lecture hall. We sat in the third row, a seat between us, and took out what we needed for class. After a minute, the guy on my right half-turned to me and said, "Hey."

I half-turned in his direction, echoing his greeting.

"You a freshman, too?"

I snickered. "Yeah, I think that's kind of obvious." I tilted my head toward the other students, who were looking at our little haven every few minutes. He chuckled, as did the girl on my left. I turned in her direction and waved a bit. They almost looked like they could be twins – tanned, healthily attractive faces, straight blond hair, blue-gray eyes...the only differences were their height and the length of their hair. Addressing both of them, I said, "I'm Edward."

"Peter," said the guy, and the girl introduced herself as Charlotte. Despite their California-style looks, they were both from Virginia. Peter was from the northern part of the state, an area which I would later discover contributed significantly to W&M's student population, and Charlotte was from a small town in the southwestern part of the state.

"A lot of my friends went to Tech; it's so close and they already wanted to go work for the mining industry," she explained. "I wasn't interested in that, and I wanted to be closer to the ocean. I plan to go into the Marine Science program." She sounded determined.

Peter wasn't really sure what he wanted to do, but he'd aced biology in high school and loved science, so he figured it would be stupid to sign up for the freshman level class and be bored out of his mind.

Any further conversation was cut off by the professor's entrance. One thing that made W&M so attractive was that almost all of the classes, even introductory lecture classes, were taught by professors, not teaching assistants. The atmosphere created by this commitment to teaching, not just research, was one of serious investment in each student's academic development – not just the few in each department that managed to get noticed by a professor. Even as a freshman, I had only one class that was to be primarily led by a TA—and that was with the professor's participation at one class per week.

This professor could have been a fly on the wall during my meeting with Banner, he so closely repeated what Banner had said about taking this class on if you weren't ready for it. This statement was accompanied by a pointed glance at our row. His tone got my back up, and when his eyes met mine, I gazed back directly, careful to keep my expression non-defiant but nonetheless determined. After similar evaluation of Peter and Charlotte, he seemed skeptical but more open-minded. He moved on to the first day's classwork without further comment.

After class, the three of us walked out together. "Do you have a class right away?" Peter asked.

None of us did, so we all agreed to go get some coffee.

"Would you guys be interested in a study group?" Charlotte asked after we were seated. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I got straight A's in AP biology in high school, but I'm willing to try just about anything to make sure I keep it that way. I'm on an academic scholarship, and if I lose it, back I go to Christiansburg. I ain't doing it." As she continued speaking, a hint of the hills became apparent in her voice. Although I wondered a bit at her vehemence, I couldn't argue with her commitment, and a study group seemed like a good idea to me. "Sure, sounds good."

Peter looked at her a little longer, as if he was dying to ask for more details, but after a moment, he agreed to the idea as well. We compared course schedules and set up a time for our first get together, and the conversation turned general.

After forty minutes, I slung my backpack over my shoulder. "I've got to get to my music class."

"Music? Wow, are you gonna try every department?" Peter teased.

"Yep. I'm gonna work my way through the whole school." I grinned. "See you later." I left them laughing together and headed for my next class.

At the end of the first two weeks, I took stock: my classes were great; Peter, Charlotte, and I had become friends; and I was confident I could handle the course load I'd signed up for. Not that it wasn't plenty of work, but I figured it was good preparation for graduate school—whether that turned out to be law or medicine.

Best of all, not a single person had asked me if I was related to anyone else, no one looked at me curiously, wondering why I wasn't more like Emmett, or Alice, or Carlisle. Everyone from Banner to Peter and Charlotte to the other students in my music class accepted me at face value—based on what I knew about mitosis or Debussy, not what Emmett had forgotten about mitosis or how Alice had dissed classical music in favor of the current dance tracks. Between rush and football practice, I hardly saw Emmett those first two weeks, and while it was odd not to have him around more, it was also...freeing. I loved college.

Before I knew it, Emmett and I were boarding a plane for Chicago, looking forward to the awesome Thanksgiving dinner Esme always prepared. Emmett was the most enthusiastic, but I sure wasn't going to complain about some real food after three months of deli sandwiches, bad school caf food, and fast-food burgers. Of course, neither of us considered using the fully-equipped kitchen at the house for anything other than storing beer and sodas in the fridge and assorted chips in the pantry. Well, I guess Emmett had some healthy stuff, like veggies and protein shakes—despite his couldn't-care-less attitude, he didn't neglect his body.

The security lines went on forever, but eventually we made it to the plane, and the flight was uneventful. Emmett showed off by effortlessly swinging our bags off the carousel, and we walked out the doors to find Esme waiting for us. I let Emmett go through the door first to be enveloped by her. Predictably, she teared up as she hugged Emmett, then me.

She pulled back from the hug and framed my face in her hands. "Look at you! You must have grown four inches! And this face—oh, dear, those adorable freckles are fading." She sighed. "I suppose you had to grow up sometime."

She led us to the car and filled us in on what had happened at home since we'd seen them over fall break, when they'd visited us in Williamsburg. I tuned out most of the news, staring out of car window as the familiar town passed by. I listened haphazardly as Esme filled us in on her interior designs and volunteer work, the trials and triumphs of Alice's senior year, and Carlisle's hospital stories.

The next day was Thanksgiving, and it was occupied with the typical American traditions: football, a sincere and moving grace by Carlisle as we held hands at the table, and turkey and all the trimmings. Esme added a new one: commenting on my—to her anyway—wonderful new appearance. Quickly abandoning her initial mourning at the loss of my freckles, she moved on to complimenting everything from my height—"as tall as Carlisle!"—to my hair—a "bronzed" reddish-brown—to my "chiseled" features—apparently, in addition to the freckles, I'd lost the last of my baby fat, and my face had slimmed down. I just laughed at her; I certainly hadn't noticed the girls suddenly falling at my feet.

Emmett and I cleaned up, since Esme, Alice and Carlisle had done all the cooking. Emmett spent the entire time giving me mock compliments in a high-pitched, bad imitation of Esme. My attempt to stop it by punching his shoulder only hurt my hand with no effect on him except to make him laugh harder. The girls went to bed early, having spent their non-cooking time planning their Black Friday attack on Chicago merchants—to start at 4 a.m. I stared at Alice when she mentioned that tidbit, then shook my head. _Obviously nuts._ Emmett and I sat with Carlisle for a while, watching an old black-and-white movie from the forties, and then we called it an early night, too.

Once the holiday was over, being home was both comforting and unsettling. Friday, I wandered my room for a while, restless, before going downstairs to see how my baby grand had fared while I was away. Running a few scales and arpeggios, I made a mental note to thank Esme for keeping it tuned. I couldn't decide what I wanted to play, so I started with a few warm-up pieces. Usually, that would naturally lead to whatever I was really in the mood for. A few minutes later, I was surprised to find myself improvising some pre-World War II blues. The deceptively upbeat tempo of the songs contrasted with the odd minor notes that tinged the songs with melancholy. The fact that I was playing them now told me something was bothering me, but for the life of me I couldn't figure it out.

After a while, I left the piano and found Emmett in the basement game room, destroying something with a spectacular explosion. Glancing up at me and then quickly back to the game, he said, "Hey. You want in?"

"Sure." I grabbed a controller and joined him.

We played for several minutes, the noises of explosions, gunfire, and our own shouts or groans filling the air. As soon as we got to a quieter level, though, he asked, "So, what's wrong?"

I looked at him blankly. "What?"

He snorted. "Dude, you only ever play video games with me if something's bothering you and you want a lead-in to talk about it."

_Hmm...why do I forget that behind that jock exterior is a perceptive intellect and the biggest heart in the world?_

"Huh. I hadn't even realized that. And I don't know what's bothering me. I just couldn't settle and I was playing the blues, but I don't know why."

"Did Mom bother you? All that gushing about how you're drop-dead gorgeous now?"

_My turn to snort,_ I thought, and I did. "She's crazy. Yeah, I shot up a few inches, but the rest...meh."

He looked at me from the sides of his eyes before focusing back on the game. "Nah. You're turning into a hottie...if I swung that way and we weren't related." He snickered.

My jaw dropped. Esme's compliments were easily written off as the product of her fondness for me, but Emmett never said anything he didn't mean. He might not have much of a filter, but whatever came out of his mouth was honest. "You have to be kidding me. You know better than that. I'm a skinny, Ron Weasley lookalike with geekish tendencies." I frowned and concentrated on the game.

"The geek part, sure." He shoved me with his shoulder and laughed. "And you're a little skinny. But Mom's right—the freckles are almost gone, and your hair's not that Shaun White color anymore. You need to look in the mirror once in a while."

I frowned harder and annihilated the next enemy agent that appeared on the screen. "The girls at school sure don't seem to notice any difference."

Emmett laughed even harder. "Oh, my God, dude, are you serious? Were you mentally absent at that party we had after mid-terms? You had so many girls following you around I was waiting for you to assign numbers for a lottery!"

I paused the game and dropped the controller to look at him squarely. "What the hell are you talking about? No one was following me around."

With a snort, Emmett started a list. "Oh, really. Well, let's see—there was Jessica, Katie, Lauren, that blonde threesome from Delta Ep...need I go on?"

Flabbergasted, I sputtered, "What? They didn't...weren't...couldn't have...seriously? They were really following me and I didn't even notice? I mean, I remember talking to some of them, and yeah, I remember those Delta Ep blondes—they were a little scary. I felt like I needed to give them a sexual resume just to try a pickup line. But like, Jessica? Or Lauren? They seemed interested?"

Shaking his head, Emmett laughed, almost sadly, it seemed, then looked at me. "Edward. Remember when we left for college, and you were excited about not being tagged with the same labels you had in high school?" I nodded. "Well, you only really lose those labels if _you_ believe you've lost them. If you keep thinking of yourself as the geeky carrot top no one wants to date, that's who you'll act like, no matter how good you really look or how great a person you really are."

"Huh." I rolled my eyes at myself. _Brilliant, Edward. Such a witty retort._ "I guess I never thought of it that way."

Emmett picked up his remote and unpaused the game. "Well, do think of it that way. It might help."

I picked up my own controller. "How'd you get so smart, anyway?"

He snickered. "It's a gift, Eddie, a gift I just have to share."

I was thinking hard about what he'd said, not the game. Needless to say, Emmett kicked my ass. After crowing about his victory, he nudged me with his shoulder—hard. Picking myself up off the floor, I glared at him. "What the fuck, Em? What was that for? Yes, you won—you're the greatest."

An evil grin appeared on his face. "I know. If you want some help so a little bump doesn't land you on your ass, I'll design a workout for you."

I scowled but he had a point, and I had to admit it was actually nice of him to offer. "Yeah, I guess. You wanna go to the gym tomorrow?"

"Sounds good."

As we turned off the TV and the Xbox, I realized we'd only talked about me. Feeling selfish, I asked, "How about you? Funny, we live together, but we never seem to be in the house together long enough for me to ask that there."

He chuckled, but then sighed. I looked at him inquiringly. Sighing was not a normal Emmett sound. "You okay, dude?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just...well, you're not the only one with girl trouble, you know. Sometimes even we fuckhawt jocks run into a little resistance." If I hadn't known him so well, I might have fallen for his cocky grin.

"Em? Who is she?"

"Oh, this girl in our little sister sorority. Most beautiful girl I've ever seen—just perfect." He sighed again. "And she won't give me the time of day. I've been asking her out all semester, and the most I've gotten is a polite no instead of the drop-dead-get-out-of-my-face she gave me the first time I asked."

This was so not my area of expertise, but I loved the big lug and tried to be encouraging. "Well, that's progress...kind of, isn't it?"

He snorted half-heartedly. "Some progress." After a short pause, he added, "I just can't get her out of my mind. I've dated some other girls, but...I'm just not into it. I think about her."

At a loss, I tried to think of something that might help, but I had zip. "Do you think it's because she's saying no—she's a challenge? You know how competitive you are."

To my surprise, he gave that some thought. "No...I mean, she is a challenge—I think she'd be a challenge even after she said yes to the date. She's feisty." He smiled in an odd way for him—almost tender. "But I don't think that's it."

I tried to be optimistic as we started up the stairs. "Well, it sound like there is some progress. And you know, you do grow on a person." I shoved him in the back as he went up the stairs ahead of me. "Why not give it until at least the end of the semester—try a couple more times?"

"Yeah...I guess."

I smirked at him as we stepped into the hallway. "Just don't get stalkerish and have her hit you with a restraining order."

He smirked right back at me. "I'll keep that in mind."

**A/N: And so we see the beginning of Edward's evolution from geek to Greek god. ;) What do you think?**

**Thanks bunches to EmilyBowden for the beta job - her suggestions made this so much better! Also, smooches to CapriciousC at Project Team Beta!**

**And the story has a beautiful banner now by the heatherdawn! Check out the link on my profile.**

**Thanks so much for reading! If you want to help me grow as a writer by telling me what you liked and what didn't work, please leave a quick review. :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Stephenie owns all.**

**Rated M for some language, a few intoxicants (though not this chapter), and a lotta future naughtiness (but it'll be a while, folks—they take their time in this story).**

~_IN_~

**Chapter 4**

**Home for Christmas**

_Bella_

Charlie was waiting for me after I passed through security at the airport. In an uncharacteristic gesture, he grabbed me in a bear hug. Releasing my suitcase's handle to free my hand, I returned the hug fiercely. I'd missed him, too.

After a moment, he stepped back, huffed, and said, "Good to have you home."

I muttered, "Thanks, Dad." He took the suitcase before I could and led the way out to where his cruiser was parked. A light mist hung in the air, but no rain fell, for which I was thankful.

"How are you liking college?" he asked as we exited the airport and got onto the interstate toward Forks.

"Oh, it's great. I like my classes, and my roommate is cool. Williamsburg is pretty different, but I like it a lot. The campus is beautiful."

"That's good." He paused for second, and then he asked, "Not too far away for you?"

I suppressed a grin; he wasn't very subtle. "Nah, it's good to see an area I'd never seen before. Lots of history there, and it just _feels _different. It's interesting."

"Humph. Well, as long as you're happy." Disappointment colored his voice.

"You could always come visit me, you know. You must have a year's worth of leave saved up." At his doubtful look, I teased, "They have fishing in Virginia—the Chesapeake or one of the rivers might be a nice change."

He chuckled. "Now that's a thought. Maybe."

~_IN_~

The next morning, I woke early, still on east coast time, and took the opportunity to make Charlie breakfast before he left for his shift. I puttered around the house, waiting until the stores opened to finish my Christmas shopping. Lounging on the sofa with a book, I was startled when the phone rang. A groan escaped me when I saw the caller ID, but I decided I'd have to talk to him sometime. Might as well get it over with.

"Hey, Jake."

"Bella! How's it going, _loca_? Liking school?"

"It's great. I love it. The campus is awesome, I liked my classes, and my roommate is really nice. How are things with you?"

"Oh, I'm cool. School's going good. Keeping up my grades, you know."

"That's great, Jake." I was _not_ going to take the bait and ask why.

Clearing his throat when he realized I wouldn't bite, he asked, "So, are you seeing anyone?"

I sighed. Like Charlie, Jake's strengths did not include subtlety.

"I've been dating a little, nothing serious. How about you?"

I heard a snort over the line. "Duh, no. I told you; I'm waiting for you, babe."

I snorted impatiently. "I told you, too. It's not gonna happen. Let's not have a repeat of that conversation. Please."

As usual, anything he didn't want to hear just didn't penetrate. "Hey, I applied to William & Mary. Should hear sometime after the holidays. So, who is this guy you're dating?"

"Just another freshman. I said it's not serious." I did not relish the thought of a detailed conversation about Mike when I wasn't sure myself where that relationship stood. "Jake, don't come—or at least, don't come for me. You're just going to get hurt. I love you. You're my best friend. But _please_ let that be all." _Why __does __he __have __to __be __so __stubborn?_

"Chill, Bella. Just letting you know. I know what I'm doing. Hey, I'm looking forward to W&M." His voice held its usual cockiness.

"What about your dad?" _Low __blow, __Bella._ I felt like such a bitch throwing his wheelchair-bound father in his face just to save myself some trouble, but I was also genuinely concerned. His dad needed help that Jake couldn't give him from across the country.

"Oh, that's all good. Rachel and Paul are engaged. She's moving home after graduation, and they're getting married at the end of May. Sam and some others are gonna help us install some ramps and widen doorways so Dad's okay in the house, and she'll be here in La Push to keep an eye on him and help with things."

The genuine thrill for Billy that went through me made me feel a little better about myself—not so bitchy, after all. The Blacks' house was not built with wheelchairs in mind, and Jake had to carry his dad to bed each night since he couldn't fit through the door to the bedroom. Modifications to the house to make it easier for Billy to get around would make a huge difference in his life. "Wow! What great news! That'll be wonderful for your dad. I didn't realize Rachel and Paul were so serious. "

"Yeah, they moved pretty quickly, but they're good together. Wait'll you see Paul—you're not gonna believe how sappy he looks when he's with her." His laugh, warm and boisterous, made me grin. "He hardly ever loses his temper anymore. Some of the guys have a bet to see how long he can go before he punches someone out."

I laughed along with Jake. Paul's temper was infamous—or at least, it used to be. A stab of nostalgia hit me—Jake and I were laughing the way we used to, before romance got in the way. It felt so _good_ just to be friends again.

"Well, if you get in, Williamsburg is great, and William & Mary is a really good school. You'll get a top-notch education and a look at another part of the country." The rest of the thought stayed unspoken: _Jake, __don't __think __you're __gonna __change __my __mind. __It's __just __not __there __for __me._

He snickered. Torn between amusement and irritation, I waited to see what he'd say.

"We'll see. Don't worry; I'm not gonna bug you about it your whole break. I do want to see you while you're home, though. And hey, you gotta come out for the New Year's bonfire. Everybody'll want to see you."

"Yeah, that sounds like fun. A bonfire on the beach sounds perfect for New Year's. And Jake, I missed you lots. Really."

"Sure, sure. Back atcha. See you later."

"Bye."

A variety of emotions ran through me as I hung up, a blend I'd become accustomed to. Hopefully, he'd find someone else and we could go back to our earlier, easy relationship. Until then, I was stuck with this mixture of affection, sorrow, irritation, and love. Reluctant to spend any more time dwelling on the Jake situation, I saw with relief that stores would be open. Presents, here I come!

~_IN_~

Within an hour, I realized Forks just didn't have everything I needed. Before going to Port Angeles, though, I decided to stop by the diner and get some coffee. As soon as I walked in the door, I heard a familiar voice call my name.

"Bella, hi! Want to join me?"

I looked in that direction and saw Angela, one of my high school friends and the kindest person I'd ever met. I immediately walked over to join her, grinning my delight at running into her. We hugged each other, and I sat down across from her.

"Hi, Angela! How have you been?"

"Great. Just stopping for a break before the boys get out of kindergarten. I pick them up at the school in about an hour." I remembered that Angela had postponed her college plans when her mom was diagnosed with cancer, so she could stay home and help care for her twin brothers.

"Oh? How are they doing? Terrorizing the school?"

She laughed; when I'd left for Virginia, they'd been a pair of the rowdiest boys the Forks preschool had seen in quite a while. "Pretty much. They're settling down a bit, but not a whole lot."

The waitress came over and served my coffee before topping off Angela's.

Stirring in some sugar, I asked, "How is your mom doing?"

She sobered but didn't look too sad. "Really good, actually. She responded very well to treatment, and they think they caught it early enough. She's done with the treatment now; she just has to go back every so often so they can check for recurrence." She half-smiled. "It's too soon to say she's officially in remission, but . . . it looks hopeful."

"Wow, that's awesome!" I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "I'm so glad. You must be so relieved."

She squeezed back. "Oh, you can't even imagine! Dad has been a basket case, but quietly, you know? Feels he has to be this spiritual rock for the rest of us, but he was terrified." Angela's dad, as kind as Angela, served as pastor at one of the local churches. "And the boys . . . well, they don't really get it, but they picked up on how Dad and I were feeling." She chuckled a little. "I think that's half the reason they get so hyper."

Smiling, I said, "Probably." I wondered if she'd been able to do anything for herself. She was really smart, and if it hadn't been for her mom's illness, she'd have had her pick of colleges. "Have you been able to do any classes? You said you were going to try and get some credits at the community college in Port Angeles—did that work out?"

"Yeah, it did. I haven't been able to take a full load, but I took three classes last semester and I'm signed up for four in the next. If Mom keeps doing well, I'll be able to transfer to a four-year college next year." She paused and looked down. "In fact, I went ahead and applied to U-Dub. And William & Mary, too, just for the fun of it."

Shocked—not by U-Dub, since that's where most of the college-bound students in Forks applied, but that she'd consider crossing the country—I just sat and stared at her for a moment before my excitement bubbled through.

"Wow, Ang, that's so cool! Do you think that would work, going so far?"

"I think so. I mean, it all depends on how my mom's doing, but she sat me down in the fall. I guess someone mentioned to her that applications were starting to be due, and it got her thinking. She said that I needed to plan my own future; I couldn't just stay in Forks forever. She told me to apply and see what happened, and if I got accepted and could work out the finances, not to pass up the chance. So we talked about where I could go, and I filled out a bunch of apps to school here in Washington, but then I mentioned how much your emails said you liked Williamsburg, and she said why not? So I did."

"It would great if you came—it really is wonderful. So different from here, but not so much that it's a complete shock. And the history . . . Ang, you'd love it. You step outside your door, and you're feet away from something that's at least two hundred years old." Angela loved history; she'd have a blast walking around the colonial area and seeing the old buildings. She'd probably find a way to join some of the archaeological digs there.

She sighed. "That sounds perfect. Well, we'll see. I'll keep my fingers crossed."

"Me, too. And hey, don't forget to apply for scholarships. There's a lot of money out there, but you have to apply for it. William & Mary's not that expensive, all things considered—I bet you could get enough to cover almost all of the expense." If she got accepted, I didn't want her to think of money as an insurmountable barrier. I had several scholarships, and I knew more was available than most people were aware of.

"Thanks, I'll do that." I loved the hint of excitement in her smile. "Do you like the classes?"

"Oh, yeah, I've had some really great ones." We talked about classes and the professors for a while until my curiosity about our former classmates got too strong.

"Have you seen anyone from school?" I asked.

"Not really." Her eyes dropped as she traced a pattern on the tablecloth. "I've heard a bunch of them are coming home for break, but I haven't run into . . . anyone."

The blush on her face gave her away; she didn't mean just "anyone."

Gently, I asked, "Still thinking about Ben?"

She exhaled sharply, her face resigned. "Yeah. I try not to, but . . . well, it hasn't worked. He is coming back for break, I heard, but it's not like he's going to look me up."

"You never know." I didn't know whether to be encouraging or not. "Sometimes he really did seem to like you . . . but . . . "

Her lips twisted in a sarcastic smile that looked so wrong on her face. "But . . . exactly. Nothing."

I felt sorry for her. She and Ben were both so shy; I'd lost track of how many times I'd watched one looking at the other, then quickly away when they thought the other looked back. Still, she hadn't played hard to get—he just never asked her out. Maybe it would be good for her to get out of town—start fresh far away from the history here, as well as far enough away that she couldn't feel compelled to come home every weekend to help her family. She deserved some time for herself.

I decided it was time to change the subject. "So, no one else around?"

She chuckled. "Well, I did have lunch with Eric over Thanksgiving weekend. He's at U-Dub, you know?" Eric had been kind of a geek in high school, but sweet and likeable. He'd been on the school newspaper and in most of the plays, and he knew his way around a computer.

"I'd heard that. So what's he doing?"

"Slowly realizing it's time to come out of the closet."

I laughed, unable to help myself. "Really? Finally."

She laughed too. "It's funny, because I think we all knew before he did." Her laughter faded. "I felt sorry for him, though. I think he's been struggling, but he seemed almost relieved to talk about it. I think it took getting out of Forks, to a bigger city like Seattle, where he didn't have to feel like he needed to explain to every person on the street, you know?"

"Hmm, I bet you're right." Angela must have seemed like a perfect person to talk to for Eric; if anyone in town could be counted on to be a good listener, she was the one. And her insight now struck me as undoubtedly correct. "Forks has its good points, but it's hard to break out of old labels when everyone's known you since you were a baby."

"Yeah. I know how that goes." She sighed.

"I think we all do." We looked at each other and burst into giggles. I pointed at myself, "The shy, bookish, clumsy daughter of the Chief, who's dating that kid from the rez—even though I wasn't except for a couple of months."

Angela mirrored my gesture. "The quiet pastor's daughter who helps her mother keep track of those hellion twin boys."

We laughed and tossed out a couple of other labels for people we'd gone to school with. When the waitress came to refill our coffees and offer some coffee cake—which we decided would be great—Angela took the opportunity to turn the conversation to me.

"So, how's your social life over there? Seeing anyone?" She raised her eyebrows.

Anyone else I'd have brushed off with a quick meaningless response, but not Angela. "Well, I've dated this guy a couple of times, Mike. Not seriously though. I mean, he's nice, and I usually have fun. But whenever he calls to ask me out, my first instinct is to think of an excuse for why I can't go." I sighed. "That's not really a good sign, is it?"

She giggled. "Don't think so, no. Why are you seeing him?"

"Um, like I said, he's nice, he's a pretty good kisser . . . do I need true love just for a date?"

"Maybe you do—or at least you shouldn't be sure that it's _not_ true love. Know what I mean?"

"Hmm, I guess . . . no, not really." I laughed at my own confusion.

Giggling, she said, "Well, you seem really sure that he's _not_ it for you—is that accurate? Can you see yourself with him in five years? Or heck, even a year?"

I gave that some thought. Could I? A year, maybe—we'd still be in school and I could imagine us going to his games that I didn't understand and my movies that he didn't understand. But five years? No way. I couldn't picture that at all.

"Hmm, no, I really can't. Especially not past school."

"Then that's your answer. I mean, obviously, if you loved him, all good. But even if you weren't sure whether you _could_ love him, you could still keep dating him to see how it developed. But this guy—you already know you don't love him. There's no question in your mind that I can see." I nodded; I had no doubt at all that I would never be in love with Mike. "So why date him?" Angela continued. "Do you like dating just for fun?"

I snorted. "No, definitely not. Dating is way too stressful to be called fun. Fun is a group of good friends enjoying themselves, not getting all emo about what to wear so you make just the right impression and then overthinking every word you say while you're out." People who thought dating was fun needed their heads examined.

Angela persisted. "Do you want to sleep with him—is that why you're going out with him?"

"Hell, no." A little surprised at how quickly and forcefully that answer came, I realized that some part of me was _very_ sure about this.

She looked at me expectantly. When my lack of response continued, she huffed an exasperated breath. "Do you need me to spell it out?"

"Okay, I see your point." Wow, she'd just zeroed right in; I felt almost dazed at how quickly she'd led me to my conclusion. "Maybe it's time to give up on this one."

I sighed and took some money out to pay for the coffee. "I've gotta finish my Christmas shopping."

"Yeah, it's about time for me to get the boys. Can we get together again while you're home?"

"Of course! At least a couple more times."

We left the diner together, then went our separate ways. She'd given me something to think about on the hour drive to Port Angeles.

~_IN_~

Christmas passed quietly. I convinced a skeptical Charlie to help me decorate the tree, and he smiled and admitted it looked nice when we turned out the lights to watch it glow. Charlie always tried to let his deputies have the holiday off, so he spent most of the day at the station. After calling Renee, I spent the day cooking and reading until Charlie came home. I interpreted his silence over dinner as a sincere compliment—he couldn't talk with his mouth perpetually full.

The days until New Year's Eve passed more quickly than I'd have liked. My time at home was proving more enjoyable than I'd expected, especially reconnecting with Angela. I even had fun with Jake—we got together a few times, and he kept to his word not to mention any hint of us as a couple. I let myself forget that part and just enjoy time with my best friend. Before I knew it, New Year's Eve had arrived: time for the bonfire.

Dusk was falling as I arrived at First Beach, and groups of people were scattered along the sand. The bonfire had been lit, but it wouldn't really get going until full dark. I wandered from group to group, greeting old friends. Jake stood with his closest friends, Quil, Embry, and Seth, at the far end of the beach. Seeing his sister first, I stopped and gave her a hug.

"Rachel, congratulations! Jake told me the good news." I said with a grin.

"Thanks, Bella. Yeah, I never thought I'd come back to La Push, but, well, things change." Her smile glowed, and she looked happier than I'd seen her in a long time.

At that point, Paul joined us and slung an arm around Rachel's shoulders. I greeted him a little nervously; I'd never been his favorite person.

"Hi, Paul. I was just telling Rachel how happy I am for you both."

He looked down at her with a fond grin and snuggled her closer to his side. "Thanks, Bella. She's amazing, isn't she?" She blushed and gazed back at him. My presence obviously unnecessary, I moved on, giggling. Jake hadn't been kidding about the change in Paul; he was just a cute little puppy with Rachel.

When I reached the group with Jake, they welcomed me with hugs, eager questions about school, and the type of teasing trash talk we were all comfortable with. As night fell and the beach grew colder, we gathered closer to the fire. Stories were told and songs were sung, and I felt at peace. Looking away from the flames, my eyes adjusted and I could see a few stars where the clouds had parted slightly. I smiled a little and sighed in happiness.

Feeling Jake's arm come around my shoulder, I considered asking him to move it, but I felt too happy to want to start a fight. If he didn't take it any further, it would be fine. And he didn't, for a long time. I had almost convinced myself that he'd given up on me when everyone started shouting and wishing each other a happy new year: midnight had struck. Looking around, I saw many people exchanging kisses, and I realized what I'd let myself in for. Without really wanting to but feeling that I should get it over with, I turned my head to look at Jake.

His eyes were warm and loving as he said in a husky voice, "Happy New Year, Bella." And he kissed me. It was barely more than a peck, but as he drew back, I could tell he hadn't given up on anything. He wanted more than friendship, and he still thought he could convince me. He didn't say anything, though, and I pretended I hadn't noticed anything as I replied, "Happy New Year, Jake," and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

~_IN_~

**A/N: Huge thanks to EmilyBowden for being my prereader and beta extraordinaire, as well as McGee42 at Project Team Beta for checking this out. **

**I also have a beautiful new banner by the wonderful heatherdawn – see the link on my profile.**

**Next chapter—Edward's spring semester—is outlined, but I have some contests and charity contribution pieces to write, too. Never fear, it will come. :) Check my profile or follow me on twitter to see what I'm working on at any given moment, and I always do teasers in the days leading up to the next post, so you'll know when.**

**Thanks to all who've read, reviewed, favorited, put me on alert, or followed me on twitter – you all are wonderful! If you'd like to tell me what you thought of this chapter, click below. ;) **


	5. Chapter 5 Pursuit

Thanks so much for coming back after my epic update fail. And thanks especially to Cared, who recently reviewed almost all of the posted chapters and thereby kicked my butt in gear to get this chapter done. I'll tell you upfront, though—not a very happy chapter for the boy. But don't worry; he's also makes a new friend.

Since it's been awhile, a quick reminder: While home at Thanksgiving, Edward realizes he is changing, and it's up to him whether to start acting differently or stick with old patterns. He starts the new semester ready for action. :)

As always, it's all Stephenie's.

_Chapter 5 _

_Pursuit_

"Hi, Edward!"

I looked up to see who the annoyingly perky, yet familiar, voice belonged to. A girl with golden-brown hair and a flirtatious manner smiled at me. Her tits were big for her five-foot-four frame, showcased by a tight, pink, turtleneck sweater. With effort, I moved my eyes up to her face.

"Hi, Jessica. Are you in this class?"

I'd met Jessica at a party Emmett and I had thrown last semester, and after the conversation he and I had over Thanksgiving, I'd thought about seeking her out, but my perpetual shyness held me back. Besides, we had come back from break right into finals, and I'd been studying as much as I could stand to make sure I kept my grades up.

"Yeah, I need an English credit to graduate. At least with this class, there are movies for most of the syllabus, so I figured this was a good one to take."

I was pretty sure my mouth must have been hanging open. _She picked a class because she thought she could watch movies instead of reading the books?_

"Really? Good to know, I guess." I couldn't think of anything else to say to that.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked, gesturing to the seat next to me.

What could I say? "No, not at all. It's not taken."

"Cool! I've been hoping to get to know you better."

Luckily for me, the professor called the class to order at that point. I had no clue what to say to Jessica. She was definitely hot, but I was still shocked as to why she was in this class; she didn't seem like someone I'd have much in common with.

Over the next few classes though, she made her interest in me clear. I couldn't help but be flattered since I knew several guys who would've loved to be in my position, but I still didn't feel like we clicked. I wasn't sure I wanted to be alone with her for a whole evening, so I didn't ask her on a date. Instead, I invited her to the party that Emmett and I were throwing at our house two weeks after classes started. I figured we'd have plenty of time to spend together, but if things got awkward, it would be easy to escape.

She arrived late, and I'd already had enough beer to get me one step up from buzzed. In my alcoholic haze, she seemed even sexier than usual in a halter top that did amazing things for her already impressive cleavage. When she offered to refill my cup and walked away, I saw that her jeans were just as hot, clinging to her shapely ass.

She focused on me the whole night: laughing at my witty jokes, touching my arms and back at every opportunity, complimenting me on my comments during a class discussion earlier that day. I was beginning to really believe what Emmett had told me over Thanksgiving about being attractive to girls. Before she left, I got her number and asked for a date the following weekend, and I was excited when she said yes. No way a girl who looked like her would have even _talked_ to me in high school, and now I had a date with her!

Once actually on the date, however, it didn't take long for me to realize that I should have stuck with my first instinct—we had nothing in common. She was a math major and brilliant in that subject, but that was the extent of her academic interest. I already knew she didn't care much for literature, but she also showed no interest in art, history, or music, except for the latest dance tracks. Dinner was peppered liberally with awkward silences, and I was incredibly relieved when it was time to take her home.

Manners ingrained in me by Esme made me walk her to the door, but I didn't even plan to try for a kiss. So I was astonished when she invited me in. For a second, I just looked at her before asking, "Why?"

She rolled her eyes and looked at me like I was crazy.

"Why do you think? My roommate's gone for the weekend, so we have the whole place to ourselves." She smiled in what I could only assume was supposed to be a seductive manner. "Come on in, lover—let's get naked."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was pretty sure she'd found me as boring as I'd found her.

"Why would you even want to? I got the impression you didn't like me much."

"Well, duh, 'cause you're super-hot, why else? I mean, geez, Edward, you're practically a Greek god! I've been wanting to get in your pants since last semester."

At first, I was so taken aback I could only stare at her. Soon, though, a feeling of distaste...almost disgust?...stirred within me. "Thanks, but no thanks." I waved one hand and turned to walk back to my car.

"What? You have to be kidding! What are you, in the closet or something?" Her voice had become a bit shrill by the end of her question and stayed that way as she continued, "That's it, isn't it? It's always the best-looking ones. I should have known."

I almost turned around to correct her, but then I realized I honestly didn't care what she thought. I just wanted to get away. I kept walking at a steady pace until I got to my car.

I drove home in disbelief. I was shocked at how she had acted—were looks really _that _important? I couldn't comprehend how anyone could be so shallow. At the same time, I bemoaned my own failure to take her up on her offer; after all, wasn't that exactly what I'd been hoping for when I asked her out in the first place? I couldn't figure out why her attitude mattered to me so much, but it did—not even my disappointment in maintaining my virtue was enough to make me want to turn around and head back to her place.

After I walked through the door, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and went toward the couch to channel surf, hoping for something at least entertaining enough to distract me. To my surprise, Emmett was already there and had beaten me to the remote.

"Hey, dude. Why're you home so early? Date didn't go well?"

I flopped on the couch next to him, heaving a sigh. "'Not well' is an understatement. 'Disaster' might be better." I told him the whole story, right down to the little scene at her doorway. By then, Emmett was howling with laughter.

"Oh, this is too good. She called you a Greek god and told you to come in and get naked?" He laughed again. "So why are you here with me? Don't tell me you didn't want to tap that—just her tits could probably get you off."

"Well, I sort of wanted to; I mean, that's why I asked her out, but well, I dunno, Em. The more I got to know her, the less hot she seemed. I was so bored the whole night, and her big tits just weren't enough. And then, well . . . it was weird, knowing that she only wanted me 'cause she thought I looked good. She made it pretty clear that on every other level she found me as boring as I found her, but she still wanted to sleep with me just because she thought I was, uh . . ."

"A Greek god?" Emmett snickered, and I knew I'd be hearing that term for a while. He stopped laughing after a minute, and a sympathetic expression crossed his face. "Sorry, dude, but it is pretty funny. And hey, I know it's hard to be judged on your looks. I get it all the time—chicks don't want to be with _me_, they want to be with the star football player. You can either use it to your advantage or get good at saying 'no.' You know which I picked—I suck at saying 'no.'"

I snorted. That was such an understatement. "I'm different—at least, I think I am. I mean, when I asked her out, I didn't expect it to be true love or anything, but I was so turned off by the time I took her home, I didn't even want to kiss her. And then for her to be so obvious. . . Am I really weird? Or a wuss for not taking her up on it? It's just, well, it wasn't what I wanted for my first time." I frowned. "At least, not unless I was drunk and could blame it on that later."

Emmett laughed. "Well, you _are_ weird—but not for that."

"I guess."

It still felt strange, though, like I should trade in my man card or something for turning down a chick with big tits who wanted to get in my pants. At the same time, I'd been so disgusted by the end of the night, I might not even have been able to get it up. That would have been a hell of a lot more embarrassing.

Suddenly, it hit me that it was ten-thirty on a Saturday night, and Emmett was home. That never happened unless he had a huge final first thing on Monday.

"Hey, what are you doing here anyway? I can't remember the last time you were home this early on a Saturday night."

He smiled a bit. "Well, remember that girl I've been after since last semester?"

"The perfect blonde who keeps turning you down? Yeah, I remember—still a 'no' from her?" I was a little astounded that she'd held out this long. It's not like he'd never been turned down, but not when he pursued a girl with this much determination.

"She didn't say yes, but she didn't say no, either."

"Really? What happened?"

"I caught her on my way into a meeting to plan the spring formal. Turns out she's on the committee, too. We'll be working together. I said something like, 'we should go together so we can keep an eye on things.' And she just looked at me for like forever, and I was waiting for the usual shutdown. Then she says, 'That was incredibly lame. Don't expect me to come with you if you can't ask me better than that.'" A satisfied smile lit his face.

"Hey, that's great—really encouraging, right?"

"You bet—that's the nicest thing she's ever said to me." He sighed happily. "I'll give it a few days and then ask her properly." He took a sip from his beer. "Hey, don't feel too bad. Everybody has a bad date once in a while—that's all this was. Find a new seat in that class for the rest of the semester, and keep your eyes open. This place has plenty of girls. They're not all vapid skanks like that one."

"Ooh, breaking out the SAT words—you're really serious."

"Fuck you."

_~IN~_

Sure enough, when Emmett asked Rosalie to the formal a few days later, she said yes. He was riding high in the weeks leading up to the dance. Even losing to me at Call of Duty—for the first time ever—didn't make a dent in his good mood.

As for me, well, I figured Emmett was right: I wasn't going to let one bad date stop me. One thing I could honestly thank Jessica for was making me realize that I had changed from that pathetic high school boy. Now that I was actually watching for it, I found a lot of girls, even a few guys, checking me out.

So when I asked Lauren, a girl in one of my music classes, out to dinner, I was hardly even nervous or surprised when she accepted. She was beautiful, with silvery blonde hair that hung straight down her back and a pretty face. Her boobs weren't as big as Jessica's, but not bad, and her conversation was light-years better. We talked about music and classes over dinner, and when I took her back to her dorm, I had no hesitation in closing in for a goodnight kiss.

Her lips were soft as she kissed me back, her arms sliding up around my neck and her fingers burying themselves in my hair. I was startled by how good it felt. My body seemed to know what to do without me telling it, and before I consciously decided to open my mouth, I was having my first French kiss. My body was thrown into immediate overdrive, and my hands shifted from her back to her hips, pulling her against me. I groaned at the pleasure.

She loosened her hands from my hair and moved them to my shoulders, shoving lightly even as she kissed me again. I kissed her back for a moment, but I didn't want to be pushy, so I pulled back. Her face was flushed, and she smiled at me.

"I had fun. Thanks for dinner."

I smiled back. "I had fun, too. Another time, maybe? We could see a movie or find some live music."

"I'd like that. G'night."

"G'night, Lauren."

We went out two more times over the next couple of weeks. On the second date, she pulled me into her dorm room for our goodnight kiss, and I made my first hands-on acquaintance with a woman's tits. Way cool, even if it was over her bra. On the third date, her bra came off, and I got to kiss them, too. Way, _way _cool. So cool I didn't even care that I sounded like Emmett.

I couldn't wait until the fourth date—how much further would we go?—but then my bubble had burst.

The music class I shared with Lauren had ended, and I'd kissed her, taking it just past the point where I would once have said was the limit in public. I had no more classes and had started home when I realized I'd left my book in class. As I arrived back at the classroom, I heard voices and recognized Lauren's right off. It took me a bit longer to place the second voice—I think maybe I'd suppressed the memory—but after a second I placed it as Jessica's. I hadn't realized they knew each other, and I vaguely wondered what Jessica was doing in the music building. Then I heard her say my name.

"That was some PDA with Edward." The acid in her tone was unmistakable.

Lauren's voice, on the other hand, could not have been more smug. "You're just jealous because he wouldn't even kiss you."

"Whatever. At least I was honest with him. I didn't make him think I was attracted to him when I was really only going out with him for revenge."

"Who says I'm not attracted to him? He's the hottest guy in our class."

"But that's not why you're going out with him. You're just trying to get back at me because Mike dumped you for me."

I could hear the malice in Lauren's reply. "Well, it's not much—it's not like you were seriously interested in Edward—but at least I got a _lot_ further than you did. And you missed some good kisses, just so you know."

I edged around the door. I wanted to see their expressions. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My stomach was churning. A whole maelstrom of emotions was fighting within me, but the only one I could identify was anger. I hated the idea of being used.

Jessica was staring at Lauren, who wore a vicious, victorious expression. Jessica shook her head, seeming to be at a loss. "I don't get you, Lauren. You weren't seriously interested in Mike, either. Do you even care how Edward would feel if he knew what's going on?"

"First, why should he care? He's getting what he wants. Second, I'm not lying—he's hot and he's smart. It's not like it's a hardship to go out with him. So what if I get a little extra out of it? He doesn't need to know a little revenge makes it all sweeter. And finally—" she sneered— "it doesn't matter how serious I was. You poach on my territory; I return the favor."

I was shaking. I'd never imagined someone as poisonous as Lauren could really exist. She took _Mean Girls_ to a whole new level. Jessica had an excellent point—at least she'd been honest with me. My brain raced, searching frantically for the perfect retort that would put Lauren in her place, but I had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I still wasn't sure what I'd say—or if I'd just grab my book and make a run for it—when I entered the room. Both girls turned right away. Jessica had the grace to look embarrassed; Lauren seemed discomfited for a moment but quickly regained her composure. Seemingly serene, she watched me approach.

My book was on the desk right next to them, and they were blocking me. Unexpectedly, I found refuge in manners.

"Excuse me, ladies. I left my book here." Jessica immediately stepped back, making room for me. Lauren stood still until I looked her in the eye and told her firmly, "You need to get out of my way." I don't know what was in my face, but she finally seemed a little shaken and moved away.

I picked up my book and quickly walked several feet away. A small part of me really wanted to do something violent, and I knew I'd never forgive myself if I gave in to that impulse. Once I was at a safe distance, I stopped, took a deep breath, and turned around to face her.

"I'm sure you'll understand that our date this weekend is off."

I didn't wait for a response. I just walked out. I told myself I could hold it together until I got home. Then I could let out...whatever I was feeling. I still wasn't even sure what it was.

An hour or so of hard piano playing later, I'd pretty much sorted myself out. Once I calmed down, I realized that none of it was even about me. It was all about Lauren and her fucked-up worldview. It wasn't personal. She hadn't pretended she felt stronger than she did, and it wasn't like I was dreaming of hearts and flowers myself. But the thought of going out with someone that malicious left me completely cold. In an odd way, I'd almost have preferred it if it _had _been personal—at least I wouldn't feel like some inanimate instrument of her revenge. If I was lucky, I'd never speak to her again.

Spring break was coming, and I figured I'd give myself a break before trying to date again. Two strikes in a row had me a bit nervous.

Meanwhile, Emmett seemed to be having better luck in his effort to get closer to Rosalie Hale. The spring formal wasn't until two weeks after we got back from break, but he'd been using the committee meetings to soften her up, even getting her to grab an after-meeting snack at one of the delis a couple of times.

Spring break was perfect—instead of a beach, we headed to the Rockies for some late-season skiing. Carlisle and Esme especially seemed to enjoy it; I think they'd assumed we'd never have a family vacation again.

When I got back, I was ready to try dating again, and I'd even thought about who I should ask out.

Heidi was in my government class. She had a brand of self-confidence that was almost intimidating, but she could also be laid-back, which made her seem more approachable. Her contributions to class discussions indicated she had distinct anarchical tendencies, and I figured at least we'd have some lively conversation. To top it all off, she was supermodel-gorgeous, all long legs and long hair, high cheekbones and full lips. She wasn't really curvy, but she oozed sex, so who cared?

I was nervous asking Heidi to a concert, a local band that was popular on campus, so I was relieved and happy when she accepted. She made it clear that she found me old-fashioned when I didn't fall into bed with her afterward, but she seemed to like my kisses. We went out a lot over the next few weeks, and given how I was making my way around the bases with her, I was bound to slide into home plate before the end of the semester.

After the spring formal, Rosalie became a regular visitor at our house. That night seemed to mark a turning point for her and Emmett—she still didn't put up with his nonsense, but she wasn't holding him at arms' length, either. Somewhat to my surprise, she never spent the night, and even more to my surprise, Emmett seemed to be fine with that. All he would say, though, is that things were different with her—like that wasn't already obvious—and it was none of my business.

She wasn't an easy person to get to know, but we got along okay. She'd heard from Emmett about some of my dating misadventures—_thanks for that, Emmett_—and told me I'd better get used to it.

"Used to what?"

"Beautiful people get treated differently. People say looks don't matter or they're not the most important thing. But it's the first thing people see, and consciously or not, it determines how they react to you."

I snorted. "I'm not beautiful. I mean, I don't look like the loser geek I was in high school, but that's not saying much."

She tilted her head and surveyed me. "False modesty won't help anything, Edward. You're an exceptionally good-looking guy, and you may as well accept it. Otherwise, you'll never be able to know when someone genuinely likes you and when they just like how you look. And if you don't know that, you won't know when they're using you."

Her matter-of-fact tone was disturbing on some level, but it left no doubt that she meant what she was saying.

"So how can I tell the difference?"

She shrugged. "Watch people. See how they interact with you, and notice if they act differently depending on whether you're out in public—where they can show you off. Listen for whether they ask about _you_ or just want to talk about themselves or make small talk to fill the silence. You'll pick it up."

I stared at her. Something in her manner told me she considered these tips to be crucial self-preservation skills, and I couldn't prevent my question. "What _happened_ to you?"

Her face immediately went hard, and her voice became even more offhand. "None of your business. Just consider this the voice of experience—hard-won experience. Believe me, you _will_ learn—it's just like a Skinner box. After you're zapped a few times, you learn which lever not to pull."

She was silent for a moment, seeming to gather herself. I wanted to offer some sympathy, but I had no idea how to do it in a way that she'd accept. As I was floundering, the moment passed, and she concluded her advice.

"It's your choice. A lot of girls will want to fuck you because you're hot. You can either take them up on it and get what you want out of it, too, or you can hold on to your v-card until you find someone who really likes you for you."

Burning with embarrassment and thinking to myself that I'd have to kill Emmett at the first opportunity, I stammered, "Wh-what? I don't—"

She cut me off. "Emmett didn't tell me anything. And I didn't know for sure until you just confirmed it."

I was sure I was blushing.

She turned her head and looked at me fully for the first time since she'd started on this topic. I guess my expression must have been a little shell-shocked because her face softened in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Edward. I guess I got carried away. I'm just trying to help. Emmett loves you a lot, you know. I thought maybe..." Her voice trailed off.

She was pretty scary when she was talking, but she'd made some good points. I tried to reassure her. "No, it's okay. I mean, you're pretty blunt, but you've given me some things to think about. You've kinda clarified some things that have crossed my mind. I'm just...well, I'm really sorry for whatever 'experience' made you learn it in the first place. You're a good person."

A wry smile twisted her lips. "I don't know about that."

I was firm, as firm as she'd been about my looks. "I do. Like you said, false modesty helps nothing. Emmett has a heart as big as he is, and he wouldn't feel the way he does about you if you weren't a good person. And look how you're trying to help me—you don't owe me anything."

She looked me in the eye for a moment before dropping her gaze, suddenly almost shy. "He is pretty wonderful, isn't he?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He's the best."

She pulled herself back together. "So, your call. Take on a fuck-buddy or ten, or wait for Ms. Right."

I laughed. "I'll think about it."

Rosalie's words remained with me over the next week or so, echoing in my head at odd times. I vowed to sharpen my observation skills.

Her warning seemed especially loud on my next date with Heidi. I got the feeling Heidi'd had enough of my old-fashioned manners. I watched her as Rosalie had suggested, even though I felt vaguely like a double-agent: on one hand, interacting with her as usual, but on the other, dispassionately gathering information. I realized she didn't care much about my looks, exactly, although she certainly liked them. But I also figured out she found me mildly amusing. She had to know I had less experience than she did, and she seemed to enjoy the feeling of power that gave her. I decided I didn't care—hell, it _was_ pretty funny. We could still each get what we wanted.

I kept thinking that as I took her home and followed her inside...as we kissed hungrily, tongues mating and tangling...as I stripped off her shirt and pulled her already-taut nipples into my mouth...as she pulled off my clothes and pumped me with her hand a few times...all the way until she shimmied out of her jeans and panties and handed me a condom.

I stared at it. I knew what it was, of course. I'd even practiced putting one on in hopes of just such an occasion. Slowly, I took it from her and awkwardly, after a couple of tries, ripped the foil open. Even more awkwardly, I started to roll it on. Making an impatient noise, she took it from me and rolled it on herself. Her tone wasn't harsh, but it wasn't nice either as she said, "You forgot the reservoir at the tip—it would have burst. Come on, you've done this before."

I cleared my throat as I felt a blush heat my face. "Actually, no, I haven't. This will be my first time." Oh God, was I starting to go limp?

She stared at me and then said, "You're kidding, right?"

I shook my head.

She started laughing. Not just a chuckle, not a few giggles at the awkwardness, but loud, uncontrollable hilarity.

I felt like I was burning, I was so embarrassed. Yep. Definitely getting soft.

When the laughter didn't stop, I'd had enough. Was it really too much to ask? Someone who didn't bore me, wasn't using me, and didn't laugh at me? I jerked the condom off and started putting my clothes back on, anger and shame rushing through me. I was almost fully dressed by the time she pulled herself together enough to talk.

"Hey, you don't have to go. I'm s-s-sorry." Her attempted apology was spoiled by another wave of giggles.

I checked to make sure I had my cell phone and wallet, and then I answered her with as much dignity as I could muster.

"Yeah, I do have to go. I'm sorry I disappointed you tonight. With all my fumbling, I thought you knew I didn't have much experience...well, okay, any experience. I guess I didn't realize how funny that would be or I'd have told you straight out and at a less awkward moment."

By now she'd stopped laughing, but a smile still quirked her lips. "Edward, it's okay. I totally did not expect that. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I knew you didn't have a lot of experience, but it never even occurred to me you could be a virgin. You don't have to go. Now that I know, we can take it as slow as you want. And I promise I won't laugh anymore."

She was sincere; I could see that. But I didn't care. I faced the fact that I didn't want a mutually beneficial yet stale usage of each other. I wanted some genuine feeling.

An epiphany, I think they call it. Certainty washed over me, and I knew what I wanted and what I had to do now.

I didn't want a fuck-buddy. I wanted a lover. And if that meant I had to wait a little longer, so be it.

I accepted her apology with as much grace as I could manage—her laughter still stung, after all. Then I said goodbye and left.

Emmett and Rosalie were on the couch watching _The Princess Bride_ when I got home. I said a quick "hi" on my way to the stairs, thinking to give them some privacy.

I should have known better.

"Edward!"

Turning back, I found two pairs of sympathetic blue eyes watching me. Emmett broke the silence. "You okay, dude? We didn't expect you back so early." I could tell he wanted to say he hadn't expected me until morning. He'd known my plans for tonight without me telling him, and he knew that something had obviously gone wrong.

"I'm fine." My gaze shifted to Rosalie. "I guess you could say I made my choice. Mutually beneficial use just isn't my thing."

She smiled and patted the couch beside her. "Come on, there's plenty of room. You know you love this movie."

I was tempted. The combination of brilliant humor, escapes, pirates, and sword fights sounded pretty good, although I wasn't sure I was ready for the "Wuv, twu wuv" part.

"I don't want to keep you two from necking on the couch." I snickered.

Emmett laughed. "You won't, dude. Just don't look."

I gave a quick snort that turned to outright laughter when Rosalie smacked his head. "Stop that." Her eyes actually twinkled though, and she added, "We'll just wait until you're upstairs after the movie."

I stepped into the room. "Well, if you're sure..."

Neither answered me verbally. Rosalie just snuggled a little closer to Emmett, leaving me plenty of room on the couch next to them.

I settled in and laughed as the Man in Black told Fezzik to dream of large women. I didn't know who I'd be dreaming of, but it would just be dreams for a while longer.

_~IN~_

**A/N: **I'm really going to try to do better. I've been taking time off this story too much for other projects, and I need to stop doing that so often. I'm not going to promise a specific update schedule, but it will _not_ be as long as this one, lol.

I've had several questions about when our two main characters will get together. At this point, I'm planning one more solo chapter for each before they meet, which means Chapter 8, at the beginning of their senior year, is when things will start really heating up.

Finally, my betas had a question about how I referred to "the delis." I'm not sure what this says about Williamsburg's social scene, but some of the main student hangouts are a few delis clustered together near campus. Great sandwiches by day, cheap pitchers of beer at night. I have many fond memories of them. :)

So, what do you think of Edward's adventures in trying to get some? Do you think he made the right decisions?

Thanks for reading!


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